Divine

About 400 people attended the funeral Saturday of cult film star Harris (Divine) Milstead, eulogized by film maker John Waters as "a man of many faces" who would have loved being the center of such attention. A dozen limousines lined the street in front of the funeral home and telephone calls came in from throughout the country from actors who had worked alongside Divine.

Think of Byzantium, and a color leaps to mind. That color is gold. The empire ruled from the crossroads of the Mediterranean and the Black Sea for a thousand years between AD 324 and its final collapse in 1453. At the Getty Villa in Pacific Palisades, where a rare and stunning exhibition of Byzantine art recently opened, gold is everywhere. It's the ground on which biblical scenes unfold, from the tender nativity of Jesus to the brutal Passions and miraculous resurrection of Christ.

S. Irene Virbila's one-star rating of Chez Mimi is ludicrous ("French Re-Connection," Restaurants, Sept. 8). She praises the charming restaurant as unpretentious and a breath of fresh air where one can enjoy simple French food. Yet she categorizes it as limited for the same reasons. She can't have it both ways! Chez Mimi's consistently divine food, warm hospitality and reasonable prices are a testament to what fills the restaurant on a daily basis. Susan Archer Templeton

Joaquin Phoenix refused to hug it out. On an overcast November afternoon, in a $13-million Hollywood home with a skyline view stretching from downtown L.A. to the Palos Verdes peninsula, the notoriously press-averse actor was throwing a fit of pique - aimed squarely at me. He had tolerated more than an hour of my questions. I was interviewing him with Spike Jonze, writer-director of "Her," the idiosyncratic yet affecting sci-fi romance in which Phoenix stars. "Her" reaches theaters in limited release on Wednesday but has already been crowned best film of 2013 by the National Board of Review and tied for best film honors from the Los Angeles Film Critics Assn.

As the creator of such unforgettable film portrayals as the tragic murderess Dawn Davenport in "Female Trouble," the victimized suburban housewife Francine Fishpaw in "Polyester" and the gold-crazed dance-hall girl Rosie Velez in "Lust in the Dust," Divine has assured himself a unique slice of perverse cinematic immortality. As a disco singer, though, Divine falls a little short--and when Divine falls, you hear it.

"I love making people laugh. I just happened to do it dressed as a woman." When you're a 300-pound female impersonator whose notoriety stems from eating dog excrement in one of the most bizarre films of all time, you've gotta justify yourself anyway you can.

New York Rabbi Niles Elliot Goldstein is a restless soul and self-described "spiritual malcontent," a man driven by inner demons and drawn to the dark side of life. Not for him the suburban synagogue, the endless rounds of benedictions and baby namings, the preaching, marrying and burying. His search for God takes place in the shadows of life.

Re "Keep Rein on Plutonium," editorial June 27: Your statement that "if the United States is to officially preach nuclear nonproliferation, it ought to practice that policy in the handling of its own bomb-making materials" reminded me of the "divine right of kings" practiced in Europe a few hundred years ago--do as I say but don't do as I do. Do we now have the "divine right for plutonium"? RADA KRISHNA Los Alamitos

Orange County's Dusty Rhodes and the River Band finds its namesake not in the longtime professional wrestler (or even the 1950s-era major league ballplayer), but in the nickname Dustin Apodaca earned after sharing his Rhodes piano-and-vocals demos with band co-founder Kyle Divine. "They were sloppy as hell, but the songs were so charming," Divine says. Many a night of "hanging out, drinking beers and watching 'The Last Waltz,' " ensued, Divine says, and drawing inspiration from '60s and '70s classic rock, a band was born.

NEW YORK - Tea time at Sardi's, and in rushed Bette Midler too busy to give her caricature on the far wall an admiring glance. She had just finished taping an appearance on Katie Couric's talk show and, like me, had plans to see Mike Nichols' starry production of "Betrayal" later that evening. (Unlike me, her companion was Glenn Close.) In short, it was a typical run, run, run New York day. For the moment, however, Midler's attention was focused on "a creature of Beverly Hills," the late Hollywood super-agent Sue Mengers.

God's fingerprints are all over this place. You see it in the curl of a grape leaf, the camber of the harvest sun. Even the oak barrels are inviting. I want to cut one in half, fill it with leaves, climb in to read a long, difficult book. This time of year always seems to connect with me. I was born in autumn, and I will probably die in winter, over sadness that autumn is gone. They can bury me in oak leaves and robust sports sections filled with football scores and World Series headlines.

SAN SEBASTIAN, Spain - Some cultures take their food more seriously than others, but the Spanish may be leaders of the pack. Travelers have been coming here for the last 25 years to experience not only the growing sophistication of regional cuisine but also the miracle of molecular gastronomy. When my daughter, Madeline, announced that she wanted to spend a college semester in Madrid, I needed no more excuse to research a trip to northern Spain's Basque country, where even fare at local bars is haute and Michelin-starred restaurants inspire gushing coverage among global media.

Restaurant Guy Savoy at Caesars Palace is raising the bar for the flourishing upscale dining scene in Las Vegas by partnering with Krug Champagnes to provide a rare culinary experience. A single table at the restaurant, overlooking the kitchen and seating two to six people, is reserved for guests wanting to savor dishes from a special menu and Champagne pairings. When Guy Savoy is in Las Vegas, he oversees the dining experience, which is limited to one seating per evening.

If there were an Emmy for Most Disturbingly Apt Title of Series, NBC's new comedy "Save Me" would win hands down. It just works on so many levels. "Save me" is certainly the phrase that surges to a critic's mind moments into the ludicrous machinations of the pilot. It is easily imagined in thought-bubble form above the head of the show's star, Ann Heche. FOR THE RECORD: "Save Me": A review of the NBC comedy "Save Me" in the May 23 Calendar section misspelled star Anne Heche's first name as Ann. - More important, it is becoming the network's not so subconscious mantra.

Remember when you couldn't go to a restaurant without coming across yet another flourless chocolate cake? And when that trend finally passed, the chocolate fashion became precious, over-elaborate tastings of this and that. I'm glad that's finally passé. When something is good, you want more than one bite, no? Over the years, I've loved Sherry Yard's chocolate musings at Spago and Nancy Silverton's thick, gorgeous chocolate pudding. Not to mention Roxana Jullapat's fresh chocolate cherry tart at Cooks County, which I hope she'll be revisiting as soon as cherries come into season later this month.

Your editorial seems to equate acceptance of evolution with a kind of atheism that ridicules religion as "nonsense" and totally rejects the idea of a divine plan in the creation of the world. Please understand that to the person who believes in God the theory of evolution may be no less than impressive evidence of divine power and presence. Even St. Augustine declared that in his original creative act Almighty God planted in nature "seminal forces" that would be effective in future development.

Every time a newborn baby is abandoned (following an unavoidable nine-month pregnancy and a delivery best described only by those who have had the experience) the mother of the infant is always sought--never the father. We know that no woman can "get herself pregnant;" even Mary needed divine intervention. When do we make the fathers of these abandoned babies responsible for their half of the act? MORRIS BARNERT VIVIAN BARNERT Palos Verdes Estates

Dear SOS: A while ago, on a visit to Cleveland, our son took us to eat and drink at the Market Garden Brewery. I believe it is near the interesting Garden Market on the near west side of Cleveland. I ordered the sweet potato pie. It was out of this world! I was glad I had eaten lightly before devouring it. Ruth L. Brown Los Angeles -- Dear Ruth: This is no ordinary sweet potato pie. Creamy mashed sweet potatoes are lightly spiced with nutmeg, cinnamon and vanilla paste, and sweetened with a touch of honey, sugar and muscovado brown sugar -- a rich, dark, unfiltered brown sugar -- for a wonderful medley of flavors.

If nothing else, the end of the grueling presidential campaign will bring a long-awaited dose of certainty to the stock market. Given the divergent economic and fiscal policies of President Obama and Republican challenger Mitt Romney, investors have strained for months to divine who will win and how they should position their portfolios. Regardless of which candidate prevails, some analysts say, the stock market might rally Wednesday as investors celebrate the end of the race.